


Happily, Happily Ever After

by Missy



Category: Princess Bride (1987)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Desert Island, Established Relationship, F/M, Found Family, Growing Up, Humor, Pirates, Post-Canon, Romance, Shipwrecks, Stranded, family life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-18 10:57:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21509932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: After the happily-ever-after, Buttercup and Westley find they have much to do after all.
Relationships: Buttercup/Westley (Princess Bride)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 80
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Happily, Happily Ever After

**Author's Note:**

  * For [glasskites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glasskites/gifts).



“A Library,” said Buttercup abruptly. “What I want most is a library.” 

Westley had been teaching her how to sword fight at that moment and had been mid-parry, so he was understandably taken aback by the statement. “You will have all of the books you wish, once we have Inigo at work as the new Dread Pirate Roberts,” he said. The Revenge had been to sea for a full month, and they were fairly close to Hispaniola, where Westley had set aside a small amount of his pirating fortune to buying a modest but elegant house in the inevitable chance of his retirement.

She bound his forward thrust with her blade, forced him back and worked him toward the opposing end of the cabin. “No servants,” she said. “I tire of being catered to. And I will expect that we shall care for one another.”

Buttercup stabbed and he parried. The swords out of the way, he pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss wasn’t quite pure, but it wasn’t darkly sensual. No, it was promising. Perhaps not one of the top ten greatest kisses of all time, but in the top fifty at least.

“As you wish,” he said, when they broke apart.

****

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The next morning, they woke to gunfire off the port bow, and men already scattering as Fezzik loaded cannonballs into cannons and Inigo shouted orders.

Westley took one look topside and shoved Buttercup gently backwards. “Stay here. I recognize the flags she’s flying.”

Buttercup shook her head. “I’m going to help,” she said.

“You can help by…” Westley began.

“…Staying quiet and out of the way?” She already had her rapier unsheathed. “I’m rather done with that,” she said.

Westley gulped down his fear and pressed his back to hers.

****

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The battle had been pitched. Buttercup, to her credit, had managed to hold her own during the tumult, which was something Westley hadn’t thought she’d be able to do. They were back to back when a cannonball ripped through the side wall of _The Revenge_ and sent them spilling overboard. 

In the suffocating darkness of the water, Buttercup swallowed her fear. Flailing would not help her – she knew this lesson from the Shrieking Eels – and so she groped out into the darkness for Westley. Soggy, unconscious, he bobbed to the surface. In the confusion of the battle Buttercup did what she could and swam around the gaping hole blasted in the side of the _Revenge_ , gathering a large piece of oak to use as a kickboard, dragging Westley behind her like a rag doll. And, in spite of her best efforts, they were separated from the still-floating ship.

****

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Buttercup’s legs and arms were aching by the time she saw the island, but hope infused her, just enough to get her moving in the direction of land.

Rushing onto the beach, she dropped Westley in a heap beside her, then collapsed and tried to suck oxygen into her starved lungs.

When she had the air to move, she rose and flung an arm over Westley’s chest. Pressing kisses over his face, she felt for his breath, for the beat of his heart. Both existed, and he coughed as ocean water spewed from his lips. She didn’t care – she kept kissing his face, half frantic with fear. 

“Oh, Westley!” she exclaimed.

“Dearest,” he said throatily.

“What?” she kept kissing his face.

“Darling?”

“Yes?”

“You’re kneeling on my wound.”

“Wound?” she gasped and noted a small gash upon his side, no bigger than her thumbnail. “We’ll have to treat it.” She reached for the hem of her skirt and ripped off a length of fabric.

She bound the wound, then got to her feet. “Where are you going?”he asked.

“Searching for some sort of herbs to help you heal,” she said. He raised an eyebrow. “I did pay attention when you were off foraging,” she said.

“Yes, I would never disagree with your decision making skills.”

****

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Three months – three and a half, judging by Westley’s rudimentary timekeeping experiments with the tip of his sword and a palm tree – had passed by since they’d found the island. All in all, Buttercup had adapted well to her surroundings, aside from a few moments of occasional fear – such as that unfortunate moment they were attacked by fiddler crabs while lying beneath the hot sun, their bellies filled with breadfruit.

Westley thought they might cultivate the fruit on his Hispaniola property when they were rescued. Not, Buttercup noted, _if_.

“Do you truly think he’s coming?” asked Buttercup.

“I trust Inigo and Fezzik as I trust my own soul. They will be back,” he said.

Buttercup gave an indelicate snort. The island was changing her, maturing her, in ways that Westley enjoyed. Her fingers were calloused, but he did not think to mind when she did such enchanting things with them. 

When those fingers partnered up with that mouth? Sensational. What could he do but return the favor?

****

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By the time Inigo found them – sailing the repaired _Revenge_ as its captain - Buttercup was visibly rounded at the belly, deeply tanned and possessing a deadly aim with a coconut shell.

Westley didn’t ask what happened. Later he learned that they’d gotten all turned around at the Cape Horn Pass.

Inigo - wearing the black mask of Roberts and sporting an intriguing new scar that Buttercup vowed to ask him about – immediately volunteered to marry the two of them on-deck.

The wedding was simple, windswept, and caused several pirates to cry as they’d never cried before.

****

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Hispaniola was never precisely dull, as Buttercup and Westley grew coconuts and breadfruit and cacao plants and tried to learn how to herd goats and sheep. The house was lovely and spacious, and in many ways they lived just as they had when they lived at Buttercup’s family home.

They had seven daughters and seven sons. The sons they taught to knit, the daughters they taught to sword fight. It was a very happy life. They were content. And if Buttercup occasionally gave a longing look to her own sword as it hung over the fireplace and Westley enjoyed All Hallows Eve a tad more than what seemed appropriate, then they considered it another dreadful part of their enduring maturity. Their adventures were long past, after all.

****

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When the eldest child was nine and the youngest three, The _Revenge_ appeared in the harbor. Inigo and Fezzik disembarked together, holding hands. Fezzik was bright purple from head to toe, and Inigo had a three-bladed sword in his grip.

His new scar, slashing across his mouth, made him look quite dashing, thought Buttercup.

“We require your assistance,” Inigo said humbly. 

Buttercup and Westley shared a brief look before heading upstairs to pack and prepare the children for the ocean trip.

Some adventures, it seemed, need not die with age.


End file.
